


Karnapidasana

by Plouton



Category: Bleach
Genre: Anal Sex, Autofellatio, Blow Jobs, Bottom Grimmjow Jaegerjaques, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Grimmjow is very bendy, Humiliation, Inappropriate use of yoga, M/M, Name-Calling, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Threesome, bdsm undertones, inappropriate use of reiatsu, slight praise kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-16 22:44:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21278972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Plouton/pseuds/Plouton
Summary: Shiro knew Grimmjow was flexible for a long time. His fighting style - filled with complicated kick flips and some properly backbreaking bends and dodges - told him that much.But this? This was something else.





	Karnapidasana

**Author's Note:**

> Check out my beautiful, incredibly talented, and absolutely filthy-minded co-author, Acjkpop, who doesn't have an AO3 account at: smorgasbordofobsessions.tumblr.com

Shiro finds out quite by accident that Grimmjow can blow himself. 

And _hello~ that’s a new fetish_. Shiro knew Grimmjow was flexible for a long time. His fighting style - filled with complicated kick flips and some properly backbreaking bends and dodges - told him that much. 

Shiro had no problems capitalizing on that when they were in bed either. It was a personal favourite of his to shove Grimm’s knees all the way up to his head and hook his feet over Shiro’s shoulders. Pin him up and open like that.

In this particular event, Grimmjow’s flexibility displayed itself after their spar devolved into some sort of pseudo wrestling. Their blades lay forgotten in the dirt of Urahara’s bunker with any semblance of technique or dignity being tossed aside in favour of grabbing hands and shoving bodies. It’s clear that neither of them have any experience actually wrestling, but as far as grappling is concerned, Shiro’s got osmotic skill from Ichigo’s numerous street fights. Grimmjow…. not so much. 

It doesn’t take Shiro long to pin the other man on his shoulders in a half stack, legs falling down to his face and back contorted in a way that would be dangerous if the arrancar didn’t seem to have the backbone of a chocolate eclair. As it stands, Grimmjow just makes an uncomfortable groan when he realizes he can’t get enough leverage to free himself or kick Shiro in his fucking teeth. 

“Give up,” Shiro orders. 

Grimmjow, ever the combative optimist, refuses. “Get fucked.”

Shiro shifts his weight a little more and pushes down and crushes Grimmjow until his groan becomes a choked whimper of discomfort, so quiet Shiro almost misses it. Pleased, Shiro leans over Grimms curled back to get a closer look at his face, fully intending to mock him for _that_ little display of hurt. What? Big bad panther can’t handle a little bit of-- his insult dies on his lips when he sees Grimmjow’s face.

Grimmjow’s turned red faced and sweaty into his thigh. His jawbone catches precariously on the black fabric of his jumpsuit a scant few inches from the juncture with his hip and he’s breathing heavily, mouth open to suck air into his compressed lungs. 

Shiro becomes, suddenly, intimately aware that if Grimmjow turned his head a little to the right, he could get his own mouth around his cock. 

It takes a full minute of breathing in and out to calm himself down after this revelation, otherwise Shiro was going to just shred Grimm’s suit and get himself inside the flexible bastard before he could think. Instead he releases his hold and lets Grimmjow uncurl, signalling the end of the fight. 

Grimmjow flops onto his back, legs and arms splayed to the side and offers a small sigh of relief, before rolling his legs up to the side and twisting his back out. The vertebrae release with a series of loud pops. “Fuck,” he groans, “I’m so tight I thought you were gonna make me pull something there.”

“Pull somethin’?” Shiro asks distractedly as he watches Grimmjow twist to the other side. 

“Mm, It’s been a while since I needed so much flexibility in a fight. I’m outta practice. I don’t gotta pay so much attention when I’m in resurrection, but this stupid human body gets stiff. Real limited range of motion.” Grimmjow says and pulls himself up into a few careful stretches, mindful of his sluggishly bleeding cuts from before they abandoned swords. 

Oh, Shiro knows what part of Grimmjow he could make stiff. 

Grimmjow rolls over to push himself into a cobra pose, feet kicking up until they were by his head to bend in the opposite direction that Shiro just had him pinned in. And if _that_ little display is meant to demonstrate how _tight _ he is, then Shiro can’t wait to see what positions he could make the other man hold when he was all stretched out. 

Yoga, Shiro thinks, truly was invented with innuendo in mind. He watches him quietly, cheeks colouring an obvious shade of magenta as his imagination begins to run away with him, before finally blurting, "Can I see?" 

"What?" Grimmjow asks, releasing the back bend and pushing himself into a downward dog, heels towards the floor and back arching.

"Ya suck your own dick - can I see ya do that?" 

"_What?” _Grimmjow stiffens and loses his pose, dropping to the dirt, mouth falling open, “_No_. Are you crazy? I can’t-"

“Oh, you definitely can. What’s your spine made of? Rubber?”

“I’m not gonna blow myself!” He snarls, shoulders rising in place of hackles.

Shiro almost groans at the denial but restrains himself, distracted by his thoughts on all the ways he was gonna fuck Grimmjow now, what positions Grimm could fold into, what positions he could hold and- "Ya’d do it of Ichi was ‘ere." 

Grimmjow’s eyes widen, enraged poker face crumbling for half a moment before he collects himself. "Maybe," he bites out.

An improvement. Better then _no. _Shiro can work with that. It’s much easier to convince the prickly bastard to move from a maybe to a yes, once Shiro gets the man in the right mind-set. 

He grins wickedly, crawling his way closer to Grimm who’s eyeing him rather suspiciously. 

"Grimmy,” Shiro ignores the dark look he earns for the cutsie nickname, “Ya tryin’ ta tell me that ya wouldn't want ta see Ichi’s face when ya first get those perfect lips around your dick? He’ll blush _so _pretty.”

"Not like I'd be able to see if he's looking or not," Grimmjow counters, but Shiro could tell he was thinking about it. The tips of his ears were growing a little red.

"Think about how flustered he would get, how hard he’d get." Shiro moves closer to Grimm to touch his arm, squeezing the muscle and toying with the idea of just rolling Grimmjow back into that perfectly fuckable backbend he had him in a few minutes ago. "He’ll nearly cum just from the sight. Ya know he loves to watch ya give blowjobs. You’re mouth looks so fucking good stretched over a dick.”

Grimmjow shudders, pupils dilating in response to the mental image Shiro is feeding him. 

God, Grimm can be such a slut, can’t he? Loves to be watched, the fucking exhibitionist. Shiro just needs a little bit more of a push. Shiro smooths a hand over Grimm’s rapidly hardening cock and leans forward to moan in his ear, “Don’t ya wanna put on a show for him?" 

Grimm groans. "Fuck, Shiro, you can't just say shit like that." He bucks slightly into Shiro’s hand and rolls his neck before reaching up to pull Shiro into a breath stealing kiss and Shiro knows he won. "Fine, let's find him." 

Shiro grins.

* * *

It takes a few minutes to warm up, once they make it back to Ichigo’s apartment. It’s longer than Grimmjow would have liked to make Ichigo wait, but he’s bulkier in his sealed form. There’s more muscle to manoeuvre and stretch out than he usually has to deal with when released. 

While he’s preparing, Shiro is distracting Ichigo. He’s situated himself with his back resting against the head of the bed with Ichigo leaning between his legs. The position gives Shiro all the room in the world to get his lips on Ichigo’s sensitive neck, which the hollow is taking full advantage of. 

Though Ichigo is trying to pay attention to the odd contortions Grimmjow is running himself through, he’s clearly distracted by the pale hands feeling him up. 

Grimmjow takes it slow, leaning back slightly on the bed and rolls his head back to show Ichigo the full plane of skin from his throat all the way down his scarred chest to his cock. It’s the most submission he’ll ever offer, even if Ichigo doesn’t quite recognize it for what the display is. 

Shiro knows though, and can’t help but let hungry eyes trail along all his vulnerable points, his exposed jugular, his hollow hole, his unprotected belly. He traces the pattern on Ichigo's skin, circles along his master’s stomach right where Grimmjow’s hole is, before sliding hands up to repeat the motion where his own sits in his chest. He’s murmuring something in Ichigo’s ear, voice low enough that even Grimmjow’s superior hearing can’t pick up on what is being said. From the rapidly rising blush on the ginger’s cheeks, it’s probably filthy. 

It’s also very distracting for Ichigo, and Grimmjow is, at his core, a bit of an attention whore. So he doesn’t take too much time to run his hands down his own body. He slides his hands under his thighs and folds. Slowly enough not to pull anything, but quick enough that even without taking his cock between his lips immediately, Ichigo knows exactly what he’s working towards.

Ichigo’s gasp of surprise is enough to encourage Grimmjow to lick a long stripe up the inside of his own thigh. Grimmjow teases his audience with licks on his thighs, edging closer and closer to his dick but never getting there. Though he can't see them, he can feel their eyes on him and he preens under the attention, wants to hold it there.

Ichigo strokes himself as he watches Grimmjow as he teases himself, eyes riveted on that pink tongue as it traces its way towards its prize. Shiro is equally entranced, mindlessly nibbling along Ichigo's neck and scratching his fingers along the insides of Ichigo's thighs to extract small hitches in his wielders breath.

Grimmjow decides to lick the tip of his dick and immediately grins when he hears a choked off sound behind him, sure it came from Ichigo. He continues lightly licking, teasing himself and his lovers before curling in a smidge more. Folding forwards rather then putting his ass over his head makes it harder, but the strain is more than worth it when he hears Ichigo. 

"Oh, shit," the ginger moans when he sees Grimmjow take the tip into his mouth. He has to close his eyes and squeeze the base of his dick to stop from cumming at the sight. He opens his eyes, breathing heavy, wordlessly moaning when he sees that Grimmjow is literally _sucking his own dick _and strokes himself faster than before.

Shiro grinds into Ichigo's back, having pulled Ichigo tighter against him after Grimmjow took himself on his mouth. The base of his dick is in between the top of Ichigo's cheeks and he considers bending Ichigo over and fucking him as they both watch Grimmjow, but decides against it. If Grimm is a good little kitty, Shiro’d much rather fuck him stupid in his current position.

Grimmjow pulls off his dick to give himself a breather, shifting his hands under him to better support his back as he goes back to licking his thighs, gently scraping teeth at the flesh near his groin. He hears the slick sounds of Ichigo jacking off and Shiro's heavy breaths, and relishes in the hot rush of pride. 

"You should see how much Ichi's leaking, Grimm. I'm amazed he hasn't come yet," Shiro comments as he spreads Ichigo's legs wider, hooking his own feet inside Ichigo's knees to hold him open as he trails hands over his torso. There's a hickey already visible on the left side of Ichigo's neck, Shiro kissing up to an ear before biting the lobe to make Ichigo moan.

"Shut up, like you're better off," Ichigo responds.

"Well, given that I'm not jacking off like a horny teen like you, I am."

"Asshole!"

"All you have to do is ask, Ichi," Shiro grins.

Grimmjow, fingertips imprinting the back of his thighs, envisions what Ichigo looks like and swallows his dick again, pushing himself further than he did before. His teeth lightly scrape the head of his dick and he moans at the sensation, having to pull off from how suddenly sensitive he got. Too much, too fast.

It was too much to cum in his own mouth like that. No, if Shiro or Ichigo wanted that from him, they’d have to _earn it_. Would have to roll him over and pin him down and make him fuck his own mouth because there is _no way _he’s doing that on his own. 

Turning onto his stomach, he sees Ichigo like he envisioned: spread open, neck bared, nails biting into the outsides of Shiro's thighs. His eyes are tightly closed and his breathing is harsh and heavy, head rolling a bit back onto Shiro’s collarbone as he tries not to get too overwhelmed from sensation.

Shiro has three fingers in Ichigo, the other hand pulling and rolling Ichigo's nipple. His mouth bites on the top edge of a hickey visible on Ichigo's neck, adding to the constellation of bruises already forming.

As Ichigo wantonly rocks his hips on Shiro's fingers, Grimmjow crawls forward, moving over Ichigo to harshly kiss him before quickly dropping down to biting Ichigo's other nipple, grinning at the whine he earns. Ichigo jerks involuntarily and arches up into his mouth, chasing the sensation. 

Shiro’s hand moves from Ichigo’s nipple to Grimmjow’s hair, nails scraping at the erogenous zone behind his ear that always makes him purr before grabbing a fistful of blue hair. He pulls his head up, guiding him to Ichigo’s mouth and Grimmjow goes without protest. Open mouthed, he swallows Ichigo’s groans whole, muffling the smaller man under fervent lips. 

Ichigo’s tongue caresses his own, enjoying the lingering taste of Grimmjow’s precum. It’s a slow and deep kiss, the kind that makes Grimmjow’s eyes flutter closed unintentionally and draws a deep rolling purr from his chest. He readjusts, pulling himself closer to the pair, a hand raising off the mattress to take over teasing the nipple Shiro forced him to abandon. The pressure on the back of Grimmjow’s head is increasing, hair pulling almost painfully under Shiro’s fingers.

“I don’t remember telling you you could stop, kitten,” Shiro’s voice croons in his ear, voice a shivery threat and Grimmjow’s eyes snap open, muscles bunching to shove himself away. Too slow. Shiro’s teeth clamp down hard against his neck, and Ichigo’s hands come up to hold him against his mouth, petting at his nape and effectively trapping him in their embrace. Blood spills warmly down his chest even as Shiro sucks at the mark. Reiatsu rises, tumultuous heavy waves of power flooding from the albino’s body and Grimmjow’s eyes roll, black spark breaking through is vision, oxygen suddenly in too short supply. 

Ichigo doesn’t even flinch at the display of strength, simply sucks Grimmjow’s tongue into his own mouth, rolling it for a second before biting down. Ichigo releases the muscle and switches to pillaging Grimmjow's mouth. Ichigo’s tongue practically fucks into his mouth, swiping against his teeth, the roof of his mouth, curling around his own.

Shiro pulls back with a swipe of his tongue, to smirk haughty over Ichigo’s shoulder. “Let him up for air, aibou.” He nips at Ichigo’s ear, tone teasing, even as his spiritual pressure crushes down on Grimmjow’s shoulders.

Even without Ichigo’s tongue in his mouth he can barely breath, thighs and forearms shaking with the effort to keep himself upright. Grimmjow strains, his own reiatsu surging to try to force Shiro off him. Shiro matches him, effortlessly, his expression bored as he stares over Ichigo’s shoulder. 

Grimmjow holds out, resistant and defiant. Blue eyes meet gold for a long strained moment, and then he crumbles. 

The pressure drops over his shoulders in a torrential force of nature. His head drops, ears ringing. Even the soft expansion of his intercostal muscles is too much movement. He feels his tongue lolling out, drool trailing down his jaw: it’s the only option unless he wants to choke on his own spit instead. He tries to avoid Ichigo’s eyes, can’t imagine what he must look like right now to the ginger. Spittle and precome on his mouth, drooling over Ichigo’s stiff dick, barely supported by his hands between his thighs, eyes unfocused and maybe even a little teary. Fuck, he must look like such a _slut._

And then the weight abates, and Grimmjow absolutely doesn’t _not _whimper like some needy little bitch. 

“We don’t want him passing out on us yet.” 

Air rushes back into his lungs with a shuddering gasp and Shiro uses his handhold in his hair to pull him into another kiss. 

Where Ichigo kisses like he might actually love Grimmjow, like he cherishes him, Shiro kisses like he’s half a beat away from devouring him. Hollow instincts and actions driving his tongue deep into Grimmjow’s mouth and Grimmjow is unbelievably grateful that Shiro's tongues is a normal, human length, rather than the foot long prehensile thing some Hollows have. 

Speaking of Ichigo, the ginger’s decided to maul the other side of his neck, kissing and sucking little bruises all the way up to his ears. His breath fans over Grimmjow, soft and careful. 

The duality between Shiro’s casual dominance and Ichigo’s almost gentle touch has Grimmjow shaking, off balance and disoriented, unsure of where to focus his attention, on where to find his pleasure.

He shifts forward, trying to bring his body closer to Ichigo for friction, anything that might help bring him closer to the edge and is stopped. One of Ichigo’s hands dropping from the sides of his head to his thigh forcing him still. 

“None of that, Grimm,” Ichigo speaks softly into his ear, lips caressing the outer shell, “didn’t you hear Shiro?”

Grimmjow pulls back from Shiro’s lips, still a little out of it, and Shiro lets him, releasing his fistful of hair. “What?” His voice comes out a little raspy. 

Ichigo doesn’t respond. 

Blue eyes meet brown-gold and then Ichigo is guiding him back, pushing him over until his back hits the mattress, knees spread with his feet tucked under his butt and his calves against the back of his thighs. The position stretches his hip flexors and quads in a way that would be uncomfortable if he hadn't already gone through the process of loosening his whole body up for the show he put on earlier. His untouched cock stands stiffly between his legs, but he doesn’t have time to feel embarrassed about how exposed he is, because Ichigo’s leaning over him, abandoning Shiro at the head of the bed in favour of settling himself between Grimmjow’s spread thighs. 

Ichigo’s hands bracketing his waist to push him further into the mattress. “Wow, you really are flexible, huh,” Ichigo muses aloud, hands moving up to put more pressure on Grimmjow's chest. The additional stretch in his quads is negligible.

Grimmjow stops himself from squirming, refusing to show any weakness in front of Shiro even though he can’t quite fight down the blush. Shiro watches the proceeding with a smirk on his face, a blue tongue snaking out to lick his lips slowly. Long pale fingers slowly trace down his torso, and Grimmjow’s eyes follow. Finally he reaches his weeping cock, takes himself in a rough grip and pushes a thumb across his slit. It’s Grimmjow that moans, even as Shiro’s legs fall a little further apart and his jaw drops in a silent moan.

Ichigo trails his hands down Grimmjow's torso, lightly touching in one place, digging and dragging in another. The inconsistent contact causes Grimmjow to shiver, unsure about where Ichigo's going. A nail scrapes harshly over his nipple and he yelps, arching his back when Ichigo leans forward to sweep a tongue over the sensitive nub. He sucks it harshly once before releasing. 

Grimmjow’s fingers fist the sheet, waiting impatiently as Ichigo slowly, slowly kisses his way across his chest and up to the bite mark Shiro left earlier. He sucks on the sluggishly bleeding mark, teeth brushing it just enough to elicit another moan from the back of Grimmjow’s throat. Ichigo leans back onto his heels and stares down at him, drinking in the vision before him.

"We should tie him up like this," he says. “Wrists to ankles?”

Grimmjow stills, breath catching in his throat, quickly looking over to Shiro before closing his eyes and taking a breath. 

"Nah, not tonight. I got another idea for him," Shiro replies, inching over to where Grimmjow lay. Gently, he places a cool hand on the outside of Grimmjow’s knee. He slides a hand up the outside of his thigh, nails scratching ever so slightly along the sensitive skin before sliding his hand down to grip an ankle and carefully extract it from under Grimmjow’s ass. 

Grimmjow’s breath stutters, but he doesn’t resist the manhandling. He let’s Shiro pull his leg straight allowing blood to rush back into the extremity before folding it again, pushing his knee up towards his chest this time. It’s not a comfortable position, legs split, one under him and the other slowly being moved up to his chest, but Grimmjow can handle a little pain. 

"I think that Grimm should continue his little show. If the little kitty wants to cum, he can only do it if it’s all over his face.” Shiro grins, sharp and predatory. “What do you think, Ichi?" He asks.

A startled squeal slips from Grimmjow’s throat, an embarrassing prey noise that he’d never admit to making later but was essential for convincing Ichigo that this was a _bad idea. _“Kurosaki-” he gasps, immediately twisting to look at Ichigo, but Shiro bears down on him, holding him still. Shiro only requires a single hand pushing his knee higher towards his until Grimmjow can’t physically bend anymore, and another yelp is forced from him. 

One of Grimmjow's hands uncleaches from the bedding to shove itself between his teeth to muffle any future sounds of weakness. Frantic blue eyes search for Ichigo’s, and he freezes. 

Ichigo’s eyes are blown dark with lust, harsh pulls of air rushing between his teeth as he stares down at Grimmjow, so clearly imagining Shiro’s described scenario. 

Grimmjow wheezes around his knuckles. Embarrassment turning his chest and cheeks a horrible red that clashes with his hair. Of course Shiro was going to want him to do something so, so _humiliating_. He liked the attention but surely he could be better doing something else. If Ichigo liked his mouth so much he could suck Ichigo off while Shiro takes him from behind… or… or he could let them stretch him out real good, could make him nice and sloppy and then they could try to get both of them inside him and he could ride between them...or…

He releases his jaw’s hold on his fist and starts to push himself up again, “Get the fuck offa me---” He strains against Shiro’s body weight, kicks his leg free from the tight grip and manages to get half his body up before he's slammed back down. 

Hands press him into the mattress, “Bad kitty,” Shiro pins his shoulders, cops a punch in the abs before he can readjust his grip to force Grimmjow’s wrists down next to his ears. Reiatsu drops like an anvil. "Didja forget that I don’t need rope to hold you down?" 

Grimmjow growls, bucking up and pulling his other leg free from under him the second Shiro reins himself in again.

Shiro tightens his grip. "You know I'll have to punish you for that."

“Punish me? What’re ya gonna do, huh?” Grimmjow hides the nervous edge under his taunt. He shifts, tries to move his hips but finds them held down by Ichigo. 

Long fingers wrap around the sides and thumbs press firmly into the divots above his hip bones. Ichigo offers a smile when he realizes Grimmjow is watching him and runs his hands over the tops of Grimmjow's hips, pressing in a bit so it was like a light message. Calming. 

Grimmjow lets out a quiet breath, internally warring between fighting Shiro tooth and nail until either the bastard folds him up like a pretzel and forces him or just letting Ichigo coax him onto his shoulders and--

"Shiro's right: you have to be punished."

Grimmjow sucks his teeth. Well there goes _that _fantasy. Fuck being good now. "Fuck you, no I don't."

"I think you do." Ichigo says as he grinds into Grimmjow. It’s contact that he’s been deprived of so far and _fuck_, even without touching his dick, it does feels heavenly. “And I think you want to be.”

Grimmjow twitches, holds himself still, thinks if he tries to escape that Ichigo will take away the friction he’s been craving since this started. He _wants_, but no way is he gonna let this go without a fight. 

"It's not thinking if it's with your dick," he retorts, but any ire he’s trying to project is destroyed when he moans as the head of Ichigo’s hard cock slides across Grimmjow’s hole. Fuck, he wants Ichigo inside him approximately yesterday. 

Ichigo laughs, amusement clear in his eyes. "Am I supposed to be thinking with something else right now?"

"Your head would be nice."

"I am thinking with my head," Ichigo grinds into Grimmjow again, as he rubs his thumbs over Grimmjow's hips and kneads at the meat of his ass.

"The one on your shoulders, dipshit," Grimmjow bites back, fails to suppress a moan and turns his heated glare to Shiro. Ichigo’s gaze is just too soft for right now. Too gentle to provide the guidance he needs if he’s gonna let the pair fold him in half again. 

He needs to get Shiro mad. Mad enough to hold him down and fuck him good and proper. Grimmjow snarls, lets the reverberating hollow undertone color it.

Shiro’s fingers trace up from Grimmjow’s shoulders, pushing harshly on the sluggishly bleeding bite mark he left, lets the faintest brush of his reiatsu play over Grimmjow’s skin and grins widely when Grimm shudders under his touch. “I don’t think aibou’s finished talking to ya yet,” a hand cups Grimmjow’s jaw, pressing until the arrancar is forced to face Ichigo again.

Ichigo leans over, eyes suddenly intent, "Let me tell you what I'm thinking." 

Grimm makes to shoot back a retort but Shiro’s fingers slip from his jaw into his mouth. His gag reflex kicks in, throat spasming around the sudden intrusion. Reiatsu presses down, just a butterfly kiss from what Shiro held him with earlier, but a clear warning none the less. “Shh, kitty. This is a listening exercise. Keep quiet or I’ll make it worse for you later, yeah?”

Grimmjow glares at him, but reluctantly obeys. He turns his attention back to Ichigo, but refuses to suckle the offered fingers, instead biting just hard enough for it to be uncomfortable. 

If his insolence bothers Shiro, it doesn’t show. 

Ichigo stills his movements, hands leaving Grimmjow’s hips to skate down his thighs, curling around and grips at the slightly sweaty skin at the back of his knees. Ichigo lifts slowly, searching Grimm’s face carefully for any signs of discomfort or stiffness, doesn’t find any. He shifts his own knees under Grimms lifted ass, settling the arrancar into his lap before leaning forwards. 

“I’m thinking-” Ichigo’s eyes aren’t brown anymore, “- you want to let us bend you over right here and fuck you. That’s what you really want, isn’t it? To be forced to put your ass over your head and fuck you until your dick touches your lips? So it’s our fault when you stick out your pretty pink tongue and lick at your slit. So you can keep your fragile pride as we make you deep throat your own cock?” 

Grimmjow shudders. It’s filthy, what Ichigo’s saying right now. He never speaks like this, not when Shiro’s present. Doesn’t need to be so aggressive when Shiro’s around to play the more dominant role. 

Grimmjow’s cock throbs with need, and he realizes that throughout this whole event, the only time he got any pleasure was when he was sucking it himself. He wants to say as much. Wants to growl: What? You ain’t able to fuck me good enough that I have to get myself off? 

He can’t speak with Shiro’s fingers in his mouth though, but his rolling reiatsu and narrowed eyes probably carry the challenge clearly enough. 

Ichigo’s staring down at him, the thin ring of gold around his pupils is damn near hypnotising. Ichigo jostles his hips slightly in the most pathetic mimic of an actual thrust that Grimmjow nearly whimpers. “Is that what you want, Grimm?”

Grimmjow glares up at him, lips still wrapped around Shiro’s lightly thrusting fingers. Like fucking hell is he gonna beg over a little bit of dirty talk. Who did Kurosaki think he was? Thoughtlessly, he lets Shiro shove another finger between his teeth. He lets the reiatsu wash over him again, prickling across his skin but draw the line at letting Ichigo lift his legs anymore. 

Ichigo is now blatantly teasing over his hole, letting the tip of his dick catch on Grimmjow’s rim as he rocks gently, smearing precum across the crease. Grimmjow tries to shift closer, tries to grind back onto Ichigo but a firm grip restrains him. He refuses to beg and bites down on Shiro’s fingers harder. 

Shiro groans, lewd and attention seeking, pulls Grimmjow’s face back towards him. “You’re not gonna get anything at all if you continue like this, Grimm, just say it. Tell Ichigo how you want his big fat cock thrusting down into your loose, sloppy cunt. Huh? Is that so hard?”

There’s another shudder of reiatsu and Grimmjow swallows instinctively, head jerking a little to bare his throat before his resistance kicks in. His legs twitch and Ichigo uses the moment of distraction to pull him a little higher in his lap so he can lean forward further and press an opened mouth kiss against the underside of his jaw. One of his hands leaves Grimmjow’s hips to grip harshly at the meat of Grimmjow’s ass, a single thumb pressing slightly over the pucker of his entrance, and _that _gets a reaction. 

Grimmjow offers a pleased rumble in his chest, relaxes slightly, and offers a rewarding stroke across Shiro’s fingers with his tongue. His eyes remain narrowed and suspicious though. He didn’t beg. Didn’t do anything that would warrant kind treatment. Wasn’t Ichigo just talking about how he was gonna punish him?

Ichigo releases his neck with a slurping noise. “Fuck, you’re so easy,” and Grimmjow realizes its a trap too late, and the next thing he knows he’s rolled over, knees hitting the matress by his head and back curved in a wicked ‘C’ shape. 

Shiro pulls his hands from Grimmjow’s mouth before the arrancar can kick out and pins him by his ankles, effectively trapping him. 

Mortification rushes hot and destructive through Grimmjow’s veins when he realizes he’s been manhandled back into the humiliating half-stack that started this whole evening. 

“Fuck you!” Grimmjow protests. Moves to unfold himself the other way, by pulling his head rather than his feet free, realizes that’s what Ichigo wanted when the meat of Ichigo’s palms press at the top of his ass and pushes his hips closer to his face. His turns his head to the side, hides his mouth against his thigh and squeezes his eyes shut as a glob of his own precum - how is he this turned on?! - drips onto his exposed cheekbone. 

He growls, low and threatening and completely useless because there’s no way out of this unless he actually tries to fight in ernest. He could-- 

Nails close around his throat, barely there pricks of pain: four points along his carotid. A thumb brushes against his jugular on the opposite side.

Serene. 

Composed.

Dangerous.

Shiro watches him, gold eyes thoughtful, reiatsu churning and Grimmjow doesn’t even dare to breathe. He holds himself as still and small as possible in the face of the stronger predators.

Ichigo adjusts himself until he’s kneeling behind Grimmjow’s back, dick resting lightly between the valley of Grimmjow’s ass cheeks. “You look good like this,” Ichigo tells him. “Bent over and open for us.”

“You gonna behave for us kitten?” Shiro rumbles. 

Pressure washes over Grimmjow’s skin, electric static across the backs of his thighs and calves. It burns almost painfully under Shiro’s hands, and _oh_\- _he’s gone_. _He’s done_. Hollow instincts succumb to the effortless display of dominance. 

Grimmjow twitches, a whole body shiver that makes his teeth chatter, and wishes he had his tail. He can’t properly express what he’s feeling in this more human than hollow body. He tries anyway. He turns his head slightly and whimpers when Ichigo pushes him over more. The head of his dick slides over his cheek and sends sparks of pleasure through his system. 

The weight of Shiro’s spiritual pressure increases, more, it _overflows_. It feels like the whole atmosphere, an ocean, the sun is bearing down on him. Hot, powerful, inextinguishable, inexhaustible. There’s so _much of it_.

Grimmjow chokes on his tongue, throws his head back as much as he can to bare his throat, as some deeply ingrained last ditch survival instinct kicks into gear. He ignores the wet streak his precum leaves down his cheek and over his jaw when his head jerks, focuses on relaxing his body, being still, being small, _he’s not a threat, not a threat, not-a-threat._ Wide blue eyes catch gold and Grimmjow blinks as slow as possible, _he’s good. He can be good. _So so good, he _promises. _Can’t get enough air to purr. Forces it out anyway. 

It’s a cracked and pathetic noise. Look, he’s _not-a-threat. _He’s so weak. Purr, vibrates along his chest until he can’t push any more air out then turns into a sob, it’s wet and useless. _Please, please, please. I’ll do what you want. Whatever you want. _

And it's such a desperate sound that it drags some semblance of rationality back into his instinct muffled brain. Grimmjow jerks, reiatsu fluctuates, tries to kick free, pushed up on his toes to bring his knees off the mattress, refuses to go down so easily. Pressure on his thighs, on his neck, one ankle pinned under the hollow’s hand, the other under it’s shin pushes him back to the mattress. Purr-crying turns to a growl, bares his teeth, can’t pull his chin down. 

There's a hand in the way. Nails at vulnerable veins. Crushes down on his trachea. Can’t breathe. Grimmjow grunts, feels the weight of someone else at his back, contorts himself--

“_Grimmjow_!” A voice, Ichigo’s voice, punctures through hollow panic. The power in his voice forces Shiro’s reiatsu off him, “Colour?”

Grimmjow pauses in his thrashing, brain scrambling. Colour? What the fuck is he-- Safe word. Ichigo’s asking for a safe word. Was he-- is he--- why would he--- he sucks in a breath. Take’s stock. Yeah, he’s out of his head. In a bad way? No--

Shiro’s moved his hand away from his throat. Hand hovering nervously over the side of Grimmjow’s temple, barely brushing sweaty blue strands back from his face. 

He-- _fuck_\-- he’s--- his heart’s gonna beat right out of his chest, blood moving so fast he’s light headed. Or is that from the lack of oxygen? Can’t think. His breathing is off. All stuttered and shallow. _Fuck _he’s so hard it _hurts_. He wants_. _So bad. He wants -- won’t beg. But, but, he’s so empty. Why isn’t Ichigo fucking him? No, he’s exactly where he wants to be. He needs-- 

“_Green!_” He gasps. He turns his head into Shiro’s hand and licks, the scrape of his tongue along the palm is wet and needy. “Fuck, Kurosaki, green. But I need you inside me _now. I need--” _He’s begging. Bites on his tongue. Whimpers at the pain. Fights it when Shiro prys his jaw open. Doesn’t fight when Shiro shoves his thigh wider -- didn't even know he could stretch that wide with his ass over his head-- so the albino can devour his mouth in a searing kiss. Tongue and teeth and blood.

It’s an apology and a promise all in one.

Shiro pulls back and it’s like he takes some part of Grimmjow’s sanity with him. Grimmjow keens a high reverberating note and stretches his neck to chase Shiro’s lips, tongue lapping uselessly at the air.

Ichigo chuckles. 

It’s a low, throaty sound that sends shivers down Grimmjow’s spine and makes his toes curl in the sheets. He awkwardly reaches a hand up, the one not still pinned under Shiro, and grabs for Ichigo. He drags nails down the flesh he can reach in his attempt to pull Ichigo closer.

A warm hand finds his and intertwines their fingers together in a stupidly affectionate human behavior and Grimmjow thinks it says a lot when he doesn’t even try to gouge bloody ribbons between Ichigo’s metacarpals. 

Shiro is less accommodating. “Aww, little kitty wants to hold hands? I thought you were begging for a dicking a moment ago? Want us to braid your hair too?”

Grimmjow glares, tugging his other hand from under Shiro’s grip to flip him the middle finger. “You even fucking _touch _my--”

Shiro capitalizes. Or was it Ichigo? Grimmjow’s not sure. All he knows is that someone had shoved hard on his ass and his throat was convulsing around his dick at the unexpected entrance. 

“Didn’t we say something about punishment?” Shiro leers, a single teasing finger trailing along the exposed vein along the underside of Grimmjow’s shaft. “Guess a cock works as good as any muzzle, hmm? That should shut you up for a while.”

Grimmjow narrows his eyes, ready to pull off except this is the first contact anyone’s made with his dick all night. He shudders, squeezes his eyes shut to lock out Shiro’s demeaning grin and carefully licks at the tip of his dick. It’s a small touch but his sandpaper like tongue catches just barely in the slit and his whole body jolts like he’s been shocked. A dam breaks, and suddenly Grimmjow is sucking in ernest. Slick, velvet tight heat brackets his hard cock and Grimmjow sucks greedily on the few inches he can reach. His tongue snaking out between his lips to lick at the inches he couldn’t reach, and it feels like heaven. Easy to forget, or maybe too hard to care that it’s his own mouth he’s finding pleasure in. All he knows is he wants _more. _

His abs contract, hard enough to pull himself over even more and Ichigo groans, hand clenching around Grimmjow's fingers and Grimmjow thinks Ichigo’d rather be fisting around his dick or, even better, fingering Grimmjow’s ass open for a proper fucking. Now _that _is an idea Grimmjow can very much get behind.

Ichigo watches Grimmjow in awe, eyes tracing over the pretty red blush across his nose and blue lashes fluttering against precum covered cheekbones. The slight scrunch of concentration between his eyebrows. Ichigo follows the curve of Grimmjow’s pink lips as they slide over his girth and his tongue peaks out to leave kitten licks further up where he can’t quite reach. 

Shiro leans around Grimmjow, standard smirk in place but clearly as affected as Ichigo felt based on the magenta blush coloring his cheeks and his weeping erection. 

“He’s so much prettier with something in his mouth, don’t you think Ichi?” Shiro groans, taking himself in hand and pumping slowly along the length, a thumb smearing over the head and finger tightening under the head. He’s wet enough for Grimm to hear. “Shame I can’t get my dick in there too at this angle.”

Grimmjow’s cheeks burn, caught somewhere between feeling humiliated and extremely turned on, though definitely tipping closer to turned on. 

Girmmjow blinks his eyes open, looks up at Shiro to see the dark hungry look in his eyes and tries to grin around his mouthful. He angled his head a bit to see around his cock he finds Ichigo’s equally intense gaze. 

The ginger’s eyes are all pupil, fixed on his mouth, on the junction between his cock is disappearing between his lips. Heat rushes through his body and he closes his eyes even as he opens his mouth wider and forces his head up further. It’s somehow more intense with Ichigo and Shiro’s eyes directly above him instead of across the bed like earlier. There’s no way they can miss a single move he makes.

He tries to picture himself, rolled over, flushed, empty hole fluttering and throat convulsing around his dick. It’s an impossible visual. 

“Grimm, you look so fucking hot right now,” Ichigo breathes. He runs his hands down Grimmjow’s ribs, down his back, barely skimming past his hollow hole. 

Shiro readjusts, free hand moving to cup the back of Grimmjow’s skull, urging him up faster then he was prepared for. Grimmjow chokes on his dick, spittle coughing out from between his lips, throat spasming visibly around his shaft.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Shiro echoes, tightens his hold on the back of Grimmjow’s head, pushes him up again, “swallow it, Grimm.”

Grimmjow rebels, both as perfunctory disobedience and as an unwillingness to give up on air quite yet. His hand presses against the mattress to force himself back down, moves his grip to the back of his knees when he can’t get the purchase he needs on the soft comforter. Shiro’s stronger though in this position, his weight more than Grimm can lift with just his arms. 

“I said _swallow_,” Shiro lets him down an inch before forcing him back up. Ichigo help, hands jumping from Grimmjow's ribs to his ass, folding him over and down into his mouth.

Grimmjow’s swallows around his girth in a way that normally would feel incredible, if he wasn’t also trying to focus on _breathing. _A moment drags into a minute of suffocating and gagging on his own dick, tears welling up in his eyes and dripping into his hair, and he’s pulling at Shiro’s wrist with genuine urgency before finally Shiro loosens his hold. His dick slips free of his mouth with an obscene pop and spit and pre-cum smearing across his lips and cheek in the process. Excess drool tracks down the sides of his mouth, mingling with wet tears.

“Fuck you,” Grimmjow gasps, voice ragged and thick. “I fucking hate--” 

“Uh-uh-uh” Shiro tuts, “That’s no way to talk, here--” He shoves a pair of fingers into Grimmjow’s mouth for the second time tonight. They’re salty with sweat and the taste of Shiro’s own precum. “If you wanted something in your mouth so bad all you had to do was ask.”

Grimmjow glares up at him, immediately biting down until he tastes blood. If Shiro is bothered by the pain, it doesn't show on his features, instead playing his fingers over Grimm's tongue, thrusting shallowly and pressing down until more saliva started to escape from the corners of his lips.

“You’re drooling all over yourself and you expect me to believe that you hate what you’re doing? You’re throat cunt’s so _wet _for it,” Shiro strokes his fingers along the back of Grimmjow’s mouth, forcing out a heady choked off groan as Grimmjow struggles with the constant pressure. Shiro enjoys the debauched sounds before drawing his fingers out, making sure to catch Grimmow’s tongue in between two of them as he did. He hooks his fingers against the edge of Grimmjow’s mouth, leaving Grimmjow’s mouth open and wide, tongue lolling out. 

“Why don’t you help him choke on it properly, Ichi?” Shiro orders, pulling Grimmjow’s tongue further out, smiling at the way Grimmjow’s eyes flutter at the domineering tone. 

Shiro waits until Ichigo pushes back down on Grimm’s ass to release his hold on the tongue and grips white finger’s around Grimmjow’s mask, pulling him up by the bone fragment until Grimmjow’s lips are back at his dick.

His other hand, dripping with saliva and body fluids rushes for Grimmjow’s exposed entrance, shoving in one long finger harshly and without warning. 

Grimmjow’s mouth falls open in a shout before Ichigo pushes his hips down towards his mouth and plunges his cock back inside. 

Ichigo watches as Shiro loosens Grimm, quickly going from one finger to two, roughly thrusting and curling and twisting his hand until Grimm is whimpering and his hole is fluttering. Idly, Ichigo grinds into Grimmjow’s lower back. 

He wonders if he could fuck Grimm while he’s bent into this pose. Every thrust downwards would for force Grimmjow’s dick further down his throat. Could fuck him from both ends like this, could make him cum as he deepthroats himself. 

A little cruelly, he digs nails into the meat of Grimm’s ass, spreading him upen until his hole starts to gape slightly around Shiro’s fingers and the albino is prompted to add a third. The additional finger receives a little whine and the shallow rock of Grimmjow’s hips back into the sensation.

The whine makes Ichigo grin and he breaks from his trance. He rubs his hands over the scratches he just left and leans down to give a light lick to Grimmjow’s hole, tongue lapping lazily around Shiro’s fingers. He laughs when Grimm chokes out a moan and licks a broader strip and digs his tongue into the hole. 

Grimmjow shudders, rocks hard into Ichigo and Shiro before thrusting back into his mouth. 

“You gonna eat him out, Ichi?” Shiro asks, “Thought we were gonna punish him?”

Ichigo pulls back for a moment, and considered the blue haired arrancar beneath him. “He’s being so good for us, Shiro. I think we should reward him instead.” He decides, diving back into Grimmjow’s entrance. 

Grimmjow rumbles approvingly around his mouthful and pulls his hips down a little deeper. 

Ichigo’s messy with it, wants to get Grimmjow as wet and sloppy as possible so he squelches like a cheap fucktoy when he finally earns Ichigo’s dick. His mouth stays on Grimm’s hole, sucking and licking and spitting around Shiro’s hand. 

Long fingers bump up against Grommjow’s prostate, relentlessly teasing the small bundle of nerves until the only sounds Grimmjow is making are wanton moans and whimpers. Shiro’s other hand is wrapped around the base of Grimmjow’s cock, squeezing whenever it looks like the arrancar is tipping too close to the edge.

Underneath them, Grimmjow is writhing, sobbing around his cock. Big fat tears of frustration leaking from his eyes as he sucks, desperately chasing an orgasm Shiro won’t let him have.

Ichigo waits until Shiro’s got Grimmjow loose enough for four fingers and half a hand, before pulling his mouth away. He ignores Grimmjow’s distressed noise and readjusts by pulling himself from his knees to stand straddled over Grimmjow’s folded body. 

Shiro watches him with a knowing grin, but Grimmjow’s much to out of it to even realize how Ichigo’s readjusting beyond knowing that he’s _not tongue fucking him anymore and Shiro’s hand isn’t enough. _He needs something bigger. Whines for it and thrusts his hips back like a good little bitch and moans around the dick in his mouth. Oh, and then the fingers are gone too and Grimmjow really does feel like he’s gonna curl up and die. He blinks through blurred vision, tongue moving discoordinated on his dick and tries to beg without pulling off himself. He was told to stay there. Cock in his mouth. He’d be good, so good, so they needed to _fuck him already!_

Ichigo doesn’t wait long, only takes a moment to slick himself with some lube on the bedside table and to get the positioning right so that he didn’t crush Grimmjow -- not that Grimmjow would mind right now. He maneuvers the head of his dick against Grimmjow’s winking hole, waits a heartbeat as the body underneath him tried to spear itself up onto the proffered dick, and then drops his weight. He thrusts balls deep in the first go. 

Grimmjow screams around his dick, hands scrambling uselessly against the bedding and scratching down Ichigo’s calf. 

“Fuuuuck,” Shiro groans and Ichigo takes a moment to check his balance. “He almost got to the base of his dick when you did that Ichi, almost got his whole length inside his throat--” Shiro cuts of with a low sound. The hollow readjusts until he’s back near Grimmjow’s head, sitting between sprawled legs. “Fuck him good and proper now Ichi, you should see the look on his face, he looks so fucking blissed out. I bet he’d cum the moment I remove my hand.”

Ichigo moans at the visual and twists himself slightly so that he can see what Shiro does. 

Grimmjow looks _ruined. _Precum and spit and tears on his red face, eyelashes fluttering as he watches his own dick pump in and out of his mouth, little choked off whimpers and moans constantly spilling from between plump lips. He’s beautiful all curled up, eyes closed as he pleasures himself for them, drool running into his hair.

“Good submissive little fucktoy,” Shiro grins and rubs his dick on Grimmjow’s face, smearing his precum along the bridge of Grimm’s nose before bumping his tip at Grimm’s lips, amused at how quickly Grimmjow opens his eyes to look at him, cross eyed focused on his dick. His tongue reaches out around the cock in his own mouth to reach for it like a proper cockslut. The greedy bitch forces his throat further up his cock to rub his face along the underside of Shiro’s, eyes rolling and moaning obscenely. 

This, Ichigo thinks, is what someone who’s on their way to being fucked stupid looks like. That thought causes any residual resistance to dissipate and he begins to fuck down into Grimmjow in ernest, strong thighs braced wide and hands on Shiro’s shoulders for balance. He sets a brutal pace, fucking hard down into Grimmjow’s perfect tight hole until hes bouncing on the mattress. If Ichigo maybe accidentally thrusts in a bit too hard just so he can hear Grimmjow choke on his dick well, it wasn’t the worst thing that could happen.

"The next time we do this, you’re gonna fuck yourself as you suck your dick"

Ichigo gave a hard thrust into Grimmjow. "Shit, that would be really hot," Ichigo moans.

With a glare at Ichigo, who only smirked back, Grimmjow struggles for a second, legs flexing and thighs straining to hold Ichigo off of him and unfold a little. He yanks his head to the side so his mouth can slide off his length a wet slurp. He hacks for a second, trying to get his throat to produce human sounds again. "The hell,” his voice is gritty, “do you mean?"

"Exactly what I said," Shiro answered, running his hands over Grimmjow's calves, thrust his hips a little so his dick slides across Grimmjow’s face again. "Was I unclear?"

Grimmjow flips his head to the otherside, forcing Shiro off lest the tip of his head gets caught in the cage of teeth on his mask. It takes him a moment to focus past the overwhelming sensation of Ichigo in him, has to find the words, "I can't,” gasps when Ichigo shifts his hips for a slightly diferent angle, “fuck myself. I’m not _tha-at _flexible."

"Couldn't you?" Shiro shifts leans over Grimmjow's face, close enough to kiss. "I think you could - dick in your mouth, fingers in your ass. What a sight." 

Grimmjow stares into Shiros' eyes, panting from Ichigo still thrusting into him and the idea Shiro was sharing.

Shiro scratches down the back of Grimmjow’s thighs, raising thin red welts on the tanned skin. When he speaks, his lips are a tantalizing hairbreadth from Grimmjow’s, "We could put a dildo in with your fingers, hmm, you could probably get your whole fist in if you tried. We’ll make sure to stretch you out the way you like, gaping like you had both our dicks in you," He licks Grimmjow's lips, taste the salty slick of his precum and pulls away when Grimmjow has the audacity to try to kiss him. A hard tug against blue hair serves as punishment. Shiro decides when and what Grimmjow does, not the other way around.

"A vibrator would be better, all that stimulation. Maybe we’ll even tie you down like that, keep you there for a couple of hours.” Shiro lifts himself to press a soft kiss at the tip of Grimmjow’s dick.

“Shiro, please,” Grimmjow whines and bites his lip, worrying at the swollen skin, to dazed to figure out if he’s begging for more contact or what Shiro’s proposing. 

“With a cockring of course. Can’t have you cumming too soon. You’ll make the most _pathetic _noises, like you deserve better.” Shiro continues, watching as Grimmjow trembles under his ministrations. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you? Cock in your mouth, fist in your cunt." A lick to the underside of Grimm's dick, slow and teasing, and Ichigo thrusts down at the same time. Every muscle in Grimmjow contracts simultaneously and it pulls a wretched cry -like he’s dying or drowning- from his chest. 

Shiro continues, unaffected, "And ya’d do it gladly, wouldn't ya, just like tonight. So eager to put on a show for us, like the desperate whore you are."

Grimmjow shudders, eyes squeezed shut as he’s force back from the edge once again, tries not to cry or scream in frustration. He forgets for a moment that he’s supposed to be fighting this. “Yes,” he breathes out, a reedy, high gasp, before recognising what he’s just admitted. His eyes snap open, brain scrambling for a way he can spin this but he’s trapped by Shiro's gaze - eyes glow. Raptorial. 

Shiro shows all of his teeth, and watches Grimm struggle not to bare his throat. Grimmjow’s blood would taste delicious on his tongue, but the angle’s annoying and he wouldn’t be able to reach his bite mark without dislocating a hip. He sinks his teeth into a sensitive thigh instead and jabs at the straining tendons at back of Grimmjow’s knees. They give out under Ichigo’s weight and Grimmjow’s driven back into the mattress with all the force of a jackhammer. 

Ichigo’s pounding against his prostate with unerring accuracy and enough strength and disregard that he must be getting close. “Shiro, Shiro-” he gasps, “put a dick in his mouth, put a-” his head falls down to his chest, breathing hard with exertion, “I wanna see him cum down his throat.”

Grimmjow obeys. Doesn’t bother to wait for whatever vaguely violent means Shiro will use, and takes his dick back in mouth, sucking hard. He’s too busy hunting after his own orgasm to care much at this point, and if Ichigo keeps this up for a few more moments, and _Shiro lets him, _he can cum.

Shiro doesn’t let him, fist tightening painfully around his shaft as he futilely tries to use the force of Ichigo’s thrusts to get the rest of himself down his throat. 

Ichigo’s orgasm surges through him like electricity, reiatsu cresting enough that even Shiro spasms under the weight of it. “Fuuuck,” he groans, pumping cum into Grimmjow’s loose hole, filling the deepest parts of him with a possessive, almost savage, growl. 

Grimmjow’s eyes roll as Ichigo skullfucks him through his orgasm, pleas catching in his throat when Ichigo pulls out to let the rest of his cum to splatter over Grimmjow’s hole and drip down onto his face, adding to the mess. 

After a long shuddering moment, Ichigo gathers his wits and with a final slap to Grimmjow’s ass, lays down to recover and watch the remainder of the show. 

Shiro lets go. 

Grimmjow can't warn Shiro or Ichigo of his impending orgasm. He hates (loves) the position he’s in now, on display, catering to what their demands, _submissive_. He feels humiliated and embarrassed and it’s all just _too much _for him to handle. He wants to ask if he’s able to cum, wants to _beg_for it, wants to hear Shiro whisper more degrading things in his ear, tell him he’s a pretty slut, a tight hole, wants Ichigo to watch him in awe. 

Wants to pull his oversensitive dick from his mouth and let Shiro stroke him to completion, can’t cum yet -- hasn’t been told he’s _allowed to_. Doesn’t want to cum on his face, either. Won’t give Shiro the satisfaction. 

But he _can’t move_, not with how Ichigo fucked him so forcefully he doesn't have the strength to unfold himself, not with Shiro holding his head in place so he can’t back off his dick, not when he was _told _that the only way he’s be allowed to cum was with his dick in his mouth. 

He’s a mess, physically and mentally, and he just wants to _cum _already. 

Shiro pinches his nose close and shoves up hard on the back of his head. Grimmjow’s choice is stolen from him, doesn’t have time to debate about whether to pull off and ask because the sudden rush of lightheadedness shoves him over the edge. It rips through him and his eyes roll impossibly further and he can’t _think, _can’t breathe, can’t tell which way’s up, tenses so hard his vision blackens. He tightens up and Shiro lets go of his nose, and it’s too late to pull off, can’t get his abs to relax enough to unfold, just wants _more_. 

His fingers claw at his thighs and his dick to hit the back of his throat, and he’s cumming so hard he _can’t-- _

Distantly, he can hear Shiro’s gleeful cackle, reveling in his debasement, feels the cum overflow when he can’t swallow fast enough, drips down his face and suddenly hands are pushing at him, rearranging him. 

He lets them manhandle him at their whim, can’t summon up the strength to care. He can be soft, that’s what they want right? Pliant and open for them.

Shiro’s talking to him. He should listen, supposed to try at least. 

“Couldn’t cum without being all plugged up, couldn’t you? Just had to have every hole of yours used. I’m not surprised, though.” Shiro leaned in, waits for Grimmjow to crack his eyes open and find him, “You love being used, love being under my control, so eager to do what I say, aren’t you.”

Grimmjow makes a feeble noise of affirmation, though it’s obvious that he’s not processing the meaning behind any of Shiro’s words. 

That’s alright with Shiro as long as the arrancar know who he belongs to. “Open up,” he throws a leg over Grimmjow’s head, straddling his face, “I wanna cum down your throat.”

He waits for a moment to see if Grimmjow has any remaining defiance and shoots Ichigo a smug look when Grimm does nothing but open his mouth. Shiro teases him anyway, smears Grimmjow’s cum onto his face and into his mouth before reaching his fingers in to pull his tongue out, “hold it there, kitten,” he orders as he pushes his dick in, quietly moaning.

“You take it so good down your perfect fucking throat. Toldja your mouth looks best wrapped around a dick. Filthy little cocksucker.” 

Grimmjow moans, too blissed out to fight against Shiro’s words and actions. His eyes are closed, relishing in the rough treatment, the feeling of being _used. _

“Your throat’s still so fucking tight, even after you fucked a hole through it on your own, damn. Fucking love this, don’t you. You bitch and whine, but the moment you get a big fat cock down your throat, you fucking gag for it. Greedy little kitty,” He groans, thrusts deeper and doesn’t pull out. 

Grimmjow moans again, attempts to nod before deciding it’s too much effort. He just watches Shiro through tear blurred vision, too fucked out for even his usual token resistance.

“You should see yourself. You look so goddamn pretty with your lips stretched around my cock-- _fuck_” he rocks, deeper. 

“Sexta espada, huh” Shiro laughs, high and delirious in his own pleasure, “more like a six dollar hole. I wonder if Aizen made you for fucking, your mouth is just too _perfect _to be natural.”

Shiro uses Grimmjow’s throat, brutal thrusts that shake the whole bed, intent on chasing his pleasure down the abused hole. “I’m gonna cum in your mouth, slut. You want that? Want my cum?”

Grimmjow makes a muffled sound around his dick and the vibrations causing Shiro to hunch inward on himself to stave off his impending orgams. 

He puts his hand around Grimmjow’s neck and squeezes, can feel the pressure on his dick through the tight hole as he pushes his dick roughly in and out. “I’m gonna add my own cum to the mess on your face, your gonna smell like me for days, everyone’s gonna know who owns your perfect little fuck hole.”

Grimmjow blinks up at him, pretty blue eyes wide and practically begging him for it, tongue working sloppily across the base of Shiro’s dick.

It doesn’t take long, a dozen or so more thrusts and he’s finished, spilling over the edge with a full body spasm and a shout. He pumps his cum into Grimmjow’s mouth until the arrancar retches before pulling out so the rest can land on Grimmjow’s face. A feral grin crossing his own, pleasure derived from Grimmjow’s unquestioning submission. He pushes the tip of his dick back into Grimm’s mouth when he’s done, Grimmjow naturally, _obediently, _sucks off what is left of his cum. Cleaning him without prompting. He rewards Grimm with a stroke through his hair.

When Shiro finally turns back to Ichigo, the ginger is watching them through half lidded eyes. Gaze trained on the lazy way Shiro’s working his softening cock across Grimmjow’s ruined lips. 

"Grimm, that was…_incredible_," Ichigo sighs, ever the kind one. So quick to give out compliments. Though Shiro supposes Grimmjow’s earned this one.

Satiated, Ichigo’s hand joining Shiro's in Grimmjow’s hair. Slowly stroking and petting down Grimmjow's body to bring him back into his skin.

Grimmjow just hums, not really in the headspace to process anything beyond the affection behind his words. A flippant hand wave and the weakest of shoves at Shiro’s side tells the pair he’s at least aware of where he is. 

Shiro takes the touch to his ribs as the signal to move off the arrancar, and flops to the side with a satisfied chuff. "I can't wait ‘til we do it again. Think ya can take both of us?" Shiro asks, grin in places as he rubs Grimmjow's scalp.

Grimmjow works his mouth slowly for a long minute, tongue heavy in his mouth and tired enough he almost forgets the question. "Hell no,” he finally rasps out, voice dragging uncomfortably, “Felt like Ichigo was gonna break my back. Can’t take you both."

Shiro thinks for a moment and uses the sheets to start cleaning Grimmjow’s face off. Careful brushes along his hairline and under the crevices of his mask. “What if you do me?”

“What?” Grimmjow asks, thoughts sluggish and half asleep as he turns to lick at Shiro's fingers, actions of a content hollow. 

It’s something Ichigo’s still getting used to: the way Grimmjow regresses to a more base mindset, alien actions replacing the human ones Aizen taught him to use. Shiro revels in it.

“Yeah, what?” Ichigo repeats more incredulous than confused. 

Shiro shrugs a shoulder, “I can do yoga or some shit. Cat-cow, down dog, third warrior. I know shit. Then you two can do me. If you snap my spine who cares. Instant regents’ gotta be good for something, right?”

“Ohh my god, we are _not _breaking your back for sex!”

Grimmjow huffs an almost laugh through his ragged throat. “I dunno. Be worth it to shut him up.”

“Oh please, you’re so fucking desperate for me.”

Grimmjow glares but it’s half hearted and exhausted. So he shove’s Shiro off the bed instead. “Too tired to deal with your crap,” he grumbles over Shiro’s outrages squawk, and shifts himself closer to Ichigo so he doesn’t have to look at Shiro’s asshole face anymore. 

He wishes Shiro would shut up and stay down, but that’s always too much to ask. And if it made him feel a bit better that he was still able to move Shiro after the spine-melting sex he just had, then that was a personal bonus.

Ichigo chuckles at their antics and pulls Grimmjow the rest of the way to him, a washcloth in hand and fixes his other half with a glower when Shiro makes to grab at Grimmjow’s turned back. “You guys can continue your little pissing contest tomorrow. It’s time for bed.”

“But Kiiiing~” Shiro whines, petulant like the immature hollow he is. “He’s _asking _for it!” 

“Fuck you,” Grimmjow mumbles into Ichigo’s chest, and drifts off to the comforting sensation of Ichigo’s gentle fingers down his back before he can hear Shiro’s snarky, but undoubtedly stupid comeback. 

When he wakes up the next morning he’s comfortably sandwiched between their warm bodies because despite all the shit talk and threats of bodily harm -- they belong to each other. 


End file.
